Final Fantasy 6/3: Deadrise
by CelticArchWing
Summary: Arch finds Shadow messed up after he was outnumbered by brigands and eventually ends up amusing the same thieves in the heat of battle by playing Chocobo! ::Deep breath.:: Chocobo? As in horsey? Yes? Good! ^ ^ Jesus Christ, i must be bored. @_@
1. Born of Fire...

Sun. Wind. Sand.  
  
She lays sleep-like, a haze of pure peace, awake from dreaming of the most pure, beautiful world: heaven at it's best. She felt well rested, as if she had slept deeply, and woke warm and blissful with the sweet taste of Eternity.  
  
Her heart beats in her chest in motion of the world, deep and pure in the music of existence. Life-blood pulses in her veins, and she felt every blood cell in her body in a dance in a wild waltz of joy and rebirth. Her lungs take in sweet, dry air from above, pure and clean. Warm sand presses against her palms, the back of her neck, and head, earthy and soothing to her muscles and skin. Her face and the back of her hands were freshly heated by the blanket of sunlight kissing her skin.  
  
Such another beautiful world.Such peace.Such hope.  
  
Something was heavy, smooth, hard, thick, but protective on her torso, across her chest, shoulders and legs.Hard and absorbing in the heat, making a more subtle type of heat against her stomach and arms. She was not completely exposed to the sunrays of the bright, harsh sun of the Fiergo Desert. But her unflawed hands, which were in direct contact to the daystar above, were pale peach and untanned as a person who lived without sunlight, a milk-cream. She felt as if she could run forever with the power surging through  
  
Her body: an electric fire.  
  
She opened her eyes.  
  
The Sun blinded her, but at the moment the pain was a joy. She was alive. The world moved on. The universe moved on. All was harmony.  
  
She sat up, the gold dust of the desert falling from her shoulders. Metal clanked. She wore thick armor, heated by the sun so that the area around her arm distorted the space beyond with its heat radiation. She had no gauntlets, or a helmet since she remembered she did not like how they obscured her view, as she was absent of any weapon. She was formerly laying in the middle of an endless desert, hands by her sides, as if in a ceremonial sleep. But her thoughts of how she came to be here, now, were blank; but she was not afraid or confused at the least. She had no memories, but she remembered.emotion. No past, but she knew the present. She did not know the road, but she knew the destination. She was in the middle of a sand trap in the blazing heat, not caring for the past, and was not afraid or even confused, and she did not care. All was as it should be.  
  
~Memories, pieces to the greatest puzzles, would come in time by those who guide from Beyond.~  
  
She had something to do here. Something needed to be changed. But not now. Not exactly now. She somehow knew.remembered without memories, that her destiny was to change something in this world. But what.she didn't remember. She just had to look for something. Something that would help her fix what time broke. Something that would help her correct what was wronged. Something.  
  
The strange, pale, and silver-clad female knight stood up after putting a hand to her surprisingly cool forehead. Sand falls to its home to the ground again as she got to her feet. Looking to the new weight on her shoulders, she saw a unique part of the already strange and beautifully simple armor. Two huge, smooth shoulder-pads angled to a dull point about three-quarters the length of her arm from her actual shoulder. They were balanced perfectly, and secured tightly as if they were a part of her body. They did not feel heavy, although they seemed at least an inch or two thick.  
  
Her hair was cut so short she could not see it, but she knew it was there because the top of her head was receiving less sun than her face. Her feet had metal and leather boots, matching with her armor, but flexible and light as if she did not wear them. The back of her neck was armored, she noticed, when she put her head back to see the tranquil azure sky stretching as far as the sands.Beautiful, beautiful peace.  
  
Her simple, child-like thoughts came in delicate strings as she found herself walking forward in the direction she was facing: North. The sun was above her, but it was more on her back than front. It felt good to use her own shadow to see. Amusing. She smiled, and laughed a few times just.because. She could walk on forever like this. Only her, the earth, the sky, and the sun.Sometimes a thing called the moon.  
  
~Thebrightemoonroseabovetheoceanwavesslowlyasshewatchedfromtheshore.~  
  
She had a memory. The moon. And the realization there was more beauty here in this world than the endless sand and the sun. Beauty as endless as.forever. Endless as truth. Endless as eternity. She smiled. She wanted to see it all. It all. The human destiny to see forever, and live in forever, forever.The humane destiny among more than the humane. The human destiny of all.  
  
She remembered questions. They came like an echo, in the back of her mind, swimming through the sand and sky of her thoughts like gentle swans on water.Her more. "loud" mental thoughts put them into words, and with words replied to them as she remembered without memories.  
  
~ What is my name? Arch Cinaed. Born of fire. Born in arches of fire. Where am I?  
  
Among the living, among the dead. I am here.  
  
Where do my feet take me?  
  
Where I want to go. To where I want to be.  
  
Where do I want do go?  
  
To where the people who walk in what I walked before are.  
  
Why?  
  
Because.  
  
Because?  
  
Why.  
  
What is why and because?  
  
To do what I have bidden myself to do. To do what I have done undone. To do what I want to do. I want to fly. Touch the forever sky. To show someone how to cry. To show someone through a lie. To show someone how to try. To show someone how to die.To show others how to fly.To give all who will listen wings.  
  
What am I?  
  
A walking riddle of forever. ~  
  
*  
  
She walked for hours never changing her calm and relaxing but steady pace, cold as ice in the desert sun but somehow hot at the same time. Wind picked up as to talk to her sometimes as she wondered and wandered, changing the landscape. Where she woke up, the dunes were small, wider than they were tall. But now she had to climb almost vertical walls of sand that reached to the sky, lost for minutes in their cool shadows. But the view from some of them gave her sight of a white and bright yellow trail, like beads on a string being dragged through the sand. She slowly came near it. It was going slower than she was, or was stopped completely. She got there within an hour or two, a little more acute to the sights and sounds of her surroundings than before. Almost suddenly, just before the caravan, the desert grew smooth and without dunes, a lake of sand rather than rounded mountains. Arch slid down the last dune, eye-level with the caravan. Yellow birds, people riding them, hauled wagons and goods. Well, they used to. Now they stopped.  
  
As she neared, curious and knowing something about these people, she knew they were afraid of her. She did not have their light-brown or red skin from the sun, and wore metal instead of clothing of leather, and now she saw, white silk cloth underneath the silver. As she walked two of the yellow bird-things with people astride them ran up to her when she was about fifty or so meters away form the first wagon-thing. They were both men, strong looking with swords at their hips. One seemed elderly, face wrinkled but mostly obscured by a brown beard. He wasn't too happy with her. He was calling her something called a Monster from a distance, and now a thief. He didn't speak. She felt his.thoughts though, but they were too static-filled for her to pick up all of them, but she picked up mostly what she tried hard to concentrate on. She saw his thoughts. Saw what he saw. Saw herself in his mind.  
  
Her face was sort of wide for what he considered as a classical beautiful woman, but she was beautiful in an unusual way. She had no defined cheeks, a chalk-pale cream color to her skin, and large eyes giving her a youthful, even childish look. Her hair was whiter than her skin. Blazing white. It was cut short around the ears and halfway around the back of her head, where it went out at a declining flat angle to meet longer growths of hair from the top of her head. Then the older man, who called himself Gorn, was calling her a ghost. But the younger, more inexperienced merchant, of whom he called Mehee, said something to him that changed his mind. Something about how she left foot prints. The older Merchant walked up to about ten feet from her and stopped to observe her. She was normal woman height, but wide of shoulder even without the some-how threatening shoulder-guards. She knew she was smaller than that, and the illusion was because she wore a man-styled armor. She stood tall, lively. From where he sat up on his mount, which she suddenly knew as a Chocobo from receiving what she could only describe as "soft" information from his "back" mind, he could see she had the strangest eyes of color- burst for her face. They were deep blue, like the ocean, but she had almost neon-electric blue streaks to them. And they where sharp; almost hawk-like. Her mental daze didn't seem to be too apparent.  
  
She got more "soft" information from his subconscious, but it was limited. She now knew what he specialized in.Those birds he and others were riding and the caravan going to a huge place called Figaro. Other than that, she was unable to hear what was not directed at her. The young man she happily appreciated because he took concern before accusation that she was a thief, although he was nervous. But for some reason it was because he was a male. And the fact she just came out of the desert. But that just stemmed to the idea she must need water and rest. She remembered a cool feeling running down her throat.But it was only a recollection. Perhaps a memory? She was somewhat worn, when she thought about it. She was breathing hard but steady, and her muscles ached, but she still felt as if she could walk forever. She was in a bliss she could not want to put into words, for it would be like running in circles.  
  
After some time of mute thoughts from Gorn and Arch standing calmly before him without a word, he spoke verbally. Arch also remembered...knew.how to reply.  
  
"Who are you?" "Arch Cinaed."  
  
A pause.  
  
"Where do you come from?" "I dunno." From his heavy, stern, deep tone of voice, Arch seemed all the more of a child. But she knew she wasn't. She had the body of a person with good youth in their twenties.And she actually had no clue where she came from. She knew they would not be satisfied with the answer of the desert. She was still standing in it. And as a location as a city, she didn't really care.  
  
".You don't know? How have you traveled without a Chocobo? Monsters would have eaten you alive for being without a weapon," he said critically.  
  
"I dunno. I walked?"  
  
The Merchant muttered something to his apprentice. After a moment of looking the armored woman over again he turned and left, leaving the young man staring stupidly over his shoulder. He then turned his face back to her nervously as he scratched his head and smiled back at the supposed victim of sunstroke. Her smile never left her face, either. She stood there dumbly, blinking every few seconds as if she had not a thought in her head. Most of the time she didn't.  
  
"Uh." started Mehee. Arch blinked. She had the urge to say something to laugh hysterically about, but nothing came to mind. She was still in a dream-like haze. "Why don't you climb on and we'll take you to the caravan? You look beat." "Nah."  
  
The bird was not too happy even with only one rider on his back. He was supposedly just trained to take humans, and he was not to amused about having a person with armor that would look as if it would crush a behemoth load off on him. The poor Chocobo was sweltering in this heat too. He came from a cooler climate somewhere.  
  
"You just toddled out of the desert! Why?" "I dunno." She grinned a little bigger. The bird cooed softly in respect. Humans did not listen to anything that did not talk like them. They were deaf, but certainly not mute. Arch regarded the feathered beast with a glance, and he puffed up happily. His rider seemed oblivious to the bird's happiness.  
  
"Then shall I accompany you?" " I dun care." Arch shrugged, and started walking. The man blinked and confirmed to himself she did have that thing called sunstroke.  
  
*  
  
She re-lived the memory of the water, but it was now the present. She guzzled a good amount for a person who could stomach so much from being in the desert long. When a person didn't have much food or fluids over a few days, they had the habit of barfing it up if they suddenly ate too much. She took it down easy. Then she handed the empty canteen back to a different young man of whom Mehee handed her off to. He looked just as dangerous with a sword as the other two who met with her before, but the merchant didn't act like it existed. He took the canister, and whistled, smiling while he looked in the top.  
  
"Shit! If I ever see you in a drinking game remind me to bet on you!" then the man turned towards some guy strapping something to a caravan some twenty feet away, "Hey Derikan! You have competition!" She couldn't hear any thoughts at all now. She didn't really want to center her mind to listen. And she smiled and lazily blinked. The world was coming more lively and sharp as time passed. She was having the tendency to laugh more physically instead of smiling. The daze of sand was whisked away in her mind, a fire from somewhere before erupting like a dream-land.  
  
The guy looked up. He had more beard stubble and was slightly less tan as well as latter than the other, she could tell across the distance. "What? Oh. Who?" "Her!" "Her?!" "Yes, her!" "But she's a lady!" "So? She just drank three canteens at once!" "WHAT?!" "Screwing with your head, pal. She just drank one!" "Asshole!"  
  
The man of whom Arch was put in custody chuckled and waved to the other man, who was proud of his chugging title, did the same. He turned back to her. "So, you heading for Fiargo?"  
  
The castle under the sand.Gears.Towers. She remembered it. She even had a bit of a memory. She remembered what it looked like. She knew it was good to start whatever the hell she doing here.  
  
".I guess."  
  
The man laughed again and jabbed a thumb to the wagon they were at. "Well, I'd advise you to get some sleep. You look like a specter!"  
  
Arch looked into the wagon where there was a blanket. And shade. She nodded to the man, grinning, and climbed in.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author Notie: Er.I'll get to working on it.O.O  
  
And OH, I-SO-BAKA! ^ ^  
  
FF6 is Squaresoft's. Arch is mine. Whoever is mine is mine. Who ever is their's is their's. The more replies I get, the more I will finish it faster. .Damn. Wait. That sounds commercial and snotty! O_O! I'LL WORK ON IT IN MY OWN TIME! REPLIES JUST MAKE ME HAAAPPYY!! ^ ^ There we go! MUAHAHAA! Locke-"Good thing you say "Muahaha.'" Wai? o.O Locke-" If you said "Mwahaha" you'd be mimicing Kefka and we would have to do many terrible things to you." ::Locke gestures to her Mountain Dew, grinning sardonically.:: D O_O! HOT-DAMN am I lucky, then...^ ^ o.o I promote "MUAHAHA!"  
  
Yeh. And anything between the "~"s are italics. Fanficiton won't let me use that HTML to make anything special lately, so if you know how, TELL ME! O.O 


	2. Merely Reflexes?

"HEEYY!"  
  
Arch woke up from a holler from outside. The sands have been shifting underneath the wheels of the merchant's sleeping wagon for a while, and she slept like a rock for about three hours.  
  
Or like her armor, anyway.  
  
She sat up, hearing again another yell. They were joyful. Someone was laughing. A couple of chocobos warked. The noise of much more people than she had so far heard mumbled in the distance.  
  
She was at Figaro Castle.  
  
She stretched her legs and arms and yawned, blinking sleep from her eyes. She wondered in humor if those sleep-grits someone called Sleep-sand in her eyes were actual sand. She knew they were not, but it was funny to think of the similarities.  
  
She got on her hands and knees and made her way to the back were she got in. The wagon slowed to the slighter pace as she looked out of the multiple curtains of colors that kept the sun out before. Now they were not needed, for the sun crept below the horizon a while ago.  
  
The caravan, led by Gorn, was allowed entry by heavily armored men with spears. Arch looked around the side of the cart. She was the third mobile buggy in the string of eight. The guy driving the chocobos of the cart after her was the man who was taunted by his friend earlier with water, Derikan. He noticed her, and smiled and nodded in greeting. She returned it.  
  
Figaro castle was lit up brightly with fire torches against the black night sky, cut by sterling stars and a distant moon. The sand glowed a copper as it met up with the metal of the sub-terrain castle, lit by torches. The gleam of soldiers' armor, much differently styled than her own, was seen from the barricades. Some of them waved. Some merchants waved back. Everyone was talking, but she really couldn't understand a word of it. She was happy anyway, smiling lightly and looking at the people from the back of her wagon.  
  
The caravan stopped inside. The whole room was like a market place, only it was empty now. The empty stands were against the wall, and that left the center of the large room barren for the wagons to settle themselves. Gorn was yelling something about getting the chocobos when the wagons stopped. Arch watched as people got off the wagons and started to unhitch the yellow birds, who were travel-weary, and lead them outside to the stables. Finally those poor beasts could get some sleep.  
  
Mehee suddenly turned around the corner or her wagon, stopping with surprise. She figured his intentions was to wake her up, and he didn't expect her to be leaning on the wood support and looking about form her sleeping quarters, bright eyed. He started stuttering again. "Er..Uh..H- Have a good nap?" He laughed nervously. Arch simply nodded, "Yep." "Well, do you think you've been here before?" "Probably. But not this room." "King Edgar made it. I mean, he had it made about six months back. The thieves are somehow crossing the sea from Zozo, and they're getting pretty obnoxious, so he made a merchant-hall for an inside market." Mehee stopped, looking around the wagon. Someone was yelling something at him. It seemed he had a habit of scratching his head when he was nervous, because he was doing it again. Looking back to Arch, the apprentice merchant smiled big enough that his teeth became the most prominent feature on his face. "Er.Well...uh.I have to go. Gorn said you're free of charge for the ride. And.uhm.You can do whatever you want.Oh! Wait a second!" He put up a finger to emphasize the waiting part. He fiddled though his pockets and after a few moments of hasty searching pulled out a small leather bag.  
  
He handed it to Arch, who took it gratefully with a nod. Looking in the bag, she saw a good amount of coins. She smiled brightly, "Thank you!"  
  
"It's nothing. Only Two thousand GP. I have heck of a lot more-" Whoever yelled for Mehee before croaked up again, sending the young man in a very abrupt goodbye. "Uh.Bye!" He waved quickly, and took off in a run around the corner in a panic. Arch chuckled. What a funny man.  
  
She looked at the brown bag. She knew she needed it for something. The idea that it was used for trade came pretty quickly with a memory of seeing hands give one of the gold circles and receiving a dagger. Dagger.A weapon. Gorn said she would be eaten alive by monsters if she didn't have one. But she had armor already, didn't she? If she bumped into a "monster" she knew she'd be able to flee.Somehow. She put the bag of GP in the front bosom of her silver plating, tucking it below her throat as she stood up and got out of the wagon.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
"Hey, doesn't that guy Setzer have white hair, too?" "Who's Setzer?" "Derikan, have I ever told you that you're an idiot?" "Yes. About eleven times today so far."  
  
Arch heard the familiar voice of the man who gave her a canteen earlier talking to his friend. They were pulling the items out of their wagon, setting up for the crowds tomorrow. They didn't seem to think she heard them as they talked about her strangeness. So far they covered the fact she might be a specter, zombie, a thing called a Luneran-or-something, an esper, or a monster. They ended up calling her a malformed human wearing something called Old Doman Armor and did not tan well, however.  
  
"It's the guy with that funny looking coat and long hair? With the airship? Who helped King Edgar kill Kefka.?"  
  
~Kefka.~  
  
Arch remembered that name. She remembered saying it somewhere. She remembered a memory.  
  
~Fallingdowndowndowndowntheblackabysswhitepaininherback. ~  
  
She blinked. Her calm, amused state of mind did not fade. It was something that happened a while ago. She wasn't affected by it now. The image was like watching it, but not being there. She continued to have a soft, genuine smile as she looked up at the ceiling. Someone said it was actually one of the smaller public rooms, connected to the front gate. She thought she smelt Chocobos behind one of the doors. It must have been where the new stables where.  
  
"Oh! That guy. Yah. He was creepy," Derikan said. He apparently did not have a good long-term memory. Arch was getting bored listening to their conversation. She decided to leave the Merchant's Hall without much thought. It was getting crowded anyway. People who wanted to see the selections before anyone else started to poke up as soon as the caravan came, even though the sun went down a while ago.  
  
Arch left through a pair of large doors. Guards chatted with each other, sometimes greeting her as she passed them in the torch-lit hallway. She mostly replied with a "Hello" and a nod. She noticed some people, both guards and regular late-night strollers, staring at her. Of course, she didn't mind. Didn't even feel self-conscious. After a while she stopped noticing them.  
  
She climbed up stairs twice, the sounds of trumpets getting louder if she listened hard. She was tempted to go down one of the stairs that flanked her when she walked through a pair of open doors. One was ominously silent, and the other was filled with vague swearing and yelling. She knew it was a jail. It must have been completely occupied up if what Mehee said was true and she would rather not know what kind of people was down there.  
  
She sooner or later found herself to open sky, huge towers reaching over her. There where no people up here. Two slightly smaller doors, and one huge one. She brought herself to the wall at her right for some reason, noticing and looking up at the moon. The opposite of the sun. Midnight lantern of the Earth.  
  
A glimpse of a vague image was in her mind. Using a little effort, the memory of the ocean came back, but she remembered sand.and something like a mountain. But soon that image faded from her mind. Arch looked below, sand stretching far out. The new Merchant's hall was indeed small in compare to the rest of the castle. She saw Fiargo's soldiers wander around on chocobos. She only looked for about a minute before she heard someone scuffle up behind her.  
  
"'Scuse me, Sir? Did you come with the merchants?" a feminine voice asked. Arch didn't feel offended with the gender mishap. She ~was~ wearing male armor and had short hair. Even she'd be confused about her appearance if she was not herself. Arch turned around, coming to face a teenage girl with brown hair and white, plain clothes with some blue embroidery on the sleeves. Arch knew she was a servant of some sort. Almost automatically the young woman's face of questioning went to embarrassment. "Oh, dear me! I'm sorry! It's just that your armor."  
  
"It's okay! I confuse myself sometimes!" Arch put up both hands, waving them as she grinned. Mistakes did not need to be apologized for, for they were not by intention. The girl's embarrassment of red in her face hushed a bit. Arch quickly answered the girl's question, "Yes. I did come with the merchants."  
  
"Oh thank the Goddesses!" the girl sighed.  
  
~Thewarmtearunningdownthebackofherhroat,onlytoshootitoutofhernoseinlaughter. ~ Arch chuckled at the flashing memory, and the relived look on the young women's face. Somehow the servant girl felt much less emotionally dense about something. Arch picked up an image of a map in the young girl's mind.The desert and the castle pictured on a small continent. North east, across a straight of water, a town in the mountains.Steam.Narshe.  
  
"Do you think you'll be able to get to Narshe soon?" the young woman asked. "I dunno. You'll have to ask the head-merchant of the train. His name is Gorn." Arch said. Her vocabulary was starting to become more functional quickly. The servant looked a little deflated, however. Arch wondered what was on the girl's mind. "Why do you ask?" "Er.My father was a miner up there. Since the world changed I haven't been able to contact him personally, so for the past few years we've been sending letters to each other, but he hasn't said anything for the past week and I don't have the money to travel there. We usually write to each other every other day.My uncle want's to come too. I was hoping I could travel with the train." "How much money do you need to get there and back?" "I'm not coming back." "Oh." "But Uncle Ezoff said it would be at least one thousand GP, but." ~We don't have the money.~  
  
In a flash Arch had the bag of gold in her hand. She was picking through it; five hundred for herself. The girl stood, jaw open. After taking the hand full of gold, the silver-armored woman handed the brown bag out to her. "Take it," she said cheerily, smiling brighter than before.  
  
The girl was reluctant in silence, looking at the money, then to Arch's face. Suddenly tears cornered at her eyes. She took the pouch, in surprise and nervousness. "Th-thank you." she said. The girl didn't know whither to laugh or cry. "Thank you so much.!" With that, the servant girl took a step back, did a small curtsy, and turning she ran away. Arch watched, smiling as the figure became more distant and disappeared into a doorway. She knew the girl's father was ill in Narshe for some time, in a feverish coma for the past seven days. Just as she knew the girl had enough knowledge of herbs to save his life if she got there in time. I~You have my blessings, kid. Good luck! ~/IArch picked up on an old joke between the girl and her uncle from the soft information. She made a low, short laugh. ~Beware of walking cheesecakes.!~  
  
"Oh, that was nice of you." Was it Arch, or did people like to eavesdrop, including her? The mild voice came from the corner of her vision. She calmly turned her head a notch to see who it was.  
  
A servant woman older than the girl, with light pink clothing and blond hair stood in the half-shadows not too far away. She was more than just older than the girl, Arch saw if she looked hard enough, but she was old. Gray streaked her hair and wrinkles edged at her eyes. She had a warm stance to her. "That girl's been agonizing herself over her father till she was like the walking dead," she continued. "She was too shy to ask King Edgar to help, and her Uncle was too proud.Aye, kid's these days.And the men! Och."  
  
~Edgar.Roni..Figaro. ~  
  
~Upsomany,manystairs. Agoldcoinflippingintheair.~  
  
Arch remembered that name too. But it was like a distant ring in the back of her head. She might as well ask."King Edgar?"  
  
"Eh? You don't know King Edgar?" The old woman looked at Arch, strait in the eye, a smile of bemusement tugging at her face. "And where have you been the last four years?" the old woman asked, putting her hands on her hips as she became skeptic. "Either you're one of those fools from Zozo or your one of those odd hermits."  
  
~ Tallbuildingswithshadowyfiguresintherain.Awarmlogcabin.~  
  
"I am neither." This was odd. "Oh, I can see that! Anyone from Zozo who comes within the castle walls is like asking for a death wish or a direct sentence to the underworld if they ran into the merchant train you came from. And no hermit would have such a cuirass as yours. Unless.Do you know of any news from Doma?"  
  
Arch figured cuirass was armor.  
  
"I do not know. I do not come from there." Arch's speech was again advancing as she was becoming more used to talking, but none the less fast. The old woman seemed to think a bit before replying, finger to her lip.  
  
"That so? Then were do you come from? No one wears armor like that anymore. Unless you came from Jidoor."  
  
~Fancymusiccamefrominsidethehouse,thedoorclossingabruptly.~  
  
"I don't know where I come from." The old woman stopped, looking at Arch again. "What do you mean by that?" "I woke up in the desert. The merchants gave me a ride here." The white- haired guest said matter-of-factly. "And you know nothing of before?" Arch nodded. The old woman..Ellaye, she picked up, was staring intensely at her, loosing her smile. Arch held her hands behind her back, calmly returning the woman's gaze. It seemed she was going to explain what little she knew, and answer a lot more questions. Ellaye was thinking.of something. Arch focused to feel what her thoughts were. ~Like that esper-girl Terra.~  
  
~Apendant,firespreadingacrossthemustyground.~  
  
Out loud the she asked, "Do you remember your name?" "Yes." Was all Arch said. Well.It was all that was asked! "And it is.? What?" "Arch Cinaed." "Heh.Sounds ancient to me," Ellaye said, smiling once more. "Maybe you just might be Doman. Or you came from Thamasa. They have funny names there." Doma.She was now having a memory about it, the name familiar.  
  
~Talltowersmadeofstone,surroundeedbyamote.Peoplefalling.falling.~  
  
"Oh! Are you planning to go anywhere?" Ellaye asked. "Excuse me?" "Outside Figaro. Travel?" "Haven't thought about it." This woman seemed to like the fact she was the first person of whom got to meet the odd stranger from the desert and question her for gossip. She knew she was the first because Arch would not be waiting around alone. Ellaye liked to talk. She also knew the younger girl with the absent father in Narshe well, and was for some reason happy and feeling "bound" to Arch for something about the money she gave away. And now Arch thought of it, she didn't know were she was going. Or what she was looking for. Something cold seemed to set in her chest. She shrugged soon after speaking in reply. Ellaye chatted on.  
  
"Ah! Then you won't be leaving soon?" "I don't think so.I might." "I tell you what.I can get you a room in the castle, free of charge so you won't have to sleep at the Inn by the Merchant's Hall every night. From what I hear people make such noise outside no one can sleep anyway! You can probably stay until you want to leave." Arch was picking something up as the woman trailed off. Something of distaste towards someone. She briefly got the picture of a face, but only could visualize baldness and wrinkles. She shrugged it off. It was none of her concern. "I don't know if I'll stay here long." Arch wanted to go off, find whatever was calling to her in the world. Something in her mind ached, reaching for something. She knew she would have to find it, and it wasn't here. "I might go tomorrow." "But you only have five-hundred GP! Are you planning to go to South Figaro?" ".Maybe. I don't know where I'm going." "Looking for what you've lost?" Ellaye smiled, almost deviously. That seemed like a liable explanation. Somehow.Arch knew it was.true. Somehow. ".Yah. I guess. Perhaps I could even find my wits, too." Arch smiled. What a precious joy this world was. And so far it was strange.  
  
All the better.  
  
*  
  
Well, Ellaye got Arch a room in the castle walls pretty quickly. A half- hour, at least. Arch didn't hear what the old woman said to a guard, but she was sooner or later led to a good sized chamber about fifteen feet wide and just as long with a view of the desert from a picture window. Beside the window, on the adjourning wall from the bed, there was a closet of some sort. The bed was made, maroon blankets with white sheets with a wood bedpost. Across from the foot was a simple white bureau sitting next to the closet and above it a picture of some sort of fabulous creature holding stars in it's arms. Or was it its teeth? Either way it was something benevolent. Arch at least got the idea with the light colors and the soft midnight sky.  
  
Ellaye suddenly became hasty once Arch was in the room. The servant-woman clasped her hands together, talking trice as fast as Arch did. She looked at a strange looking wood object on the bureau with a glass face- a clock. "Oh, you must be exhausted from the desert! You can stick your armor on the chair over there. The light's broken, but you can see by the moon, can't you? I'm tired myself, and I have a husband-" The face Arch perceived? "-to get home to. If you need anything, ask a guard. You'll find them somewhere. Usually they tend to nod off, but you'll find one. Good night!" Before Arch could say anything, Ellaye was out the door, closing it for Arch to have peace. Ellaye must have had marriage troubles.  
  
The snowy-haired dreamer scratched her head, glancing out the window briefly. She really didn't feel like taking off her armor. Something told her she shouldn't. Either that or she was just too lazy. Arch shuffled over to the mattress. Although she had what felt as if a decent nap a few hours ago, she was again tired. She flopped on the bed on her stomache, just sinking to it. The framework of the bed was sturdy, but it squeaked with the weight on top of it. The armor and Arch put together was at the least two hundred pounds. More likely two hundred fifty. But at most three hundred.  
  
After laying still for a few moments Arch sank into a near sleep, just laying across the bed in the wrong direction. But something panged in her gut. Her eyes flew open. She had to pee.  
  
It turned out the closet was not a closet. It was a private toilet. The real closet was beside the head of the bed, hidden by the door to the hallway outside when it was opened. Arch couldn't see it when she came in.  
  
And by joyful hell, she wanted the armor off! At least the lower section. She finally was able to get it down anyway and relieve herself. There was even toilet paper. After doing the instinctual duty of most living things that ate, she noticed she wore white leather breeches. That meant she wore complete white under her silver armor. She didn't find it odd in the least.  
  
Arch found the curiosity to pick through the closet after re applying her armor and leaving the bathroom. She considered going back to the bed and not giving a damn if it was empty or not, but she found herself opening the door. Turned out there was something in there. Actually, a lot of stuff, but most of it was empty boxes and linen sheets, plus a quilt. There was a solitary board across the top, a shelf. Arch saw only the vague shape of a box, and decided to pull it down. Why would it be up there if it was not different from the other crates? Turned out, logic was correct. There was a green vile, sparkling oddly in it a neon hue. She felt somewhat arbitrary and selfish to take it, but if no one was using it in a public room, she could use it later, couldn't see? Besides, the box it was in was covered in a fine layer of dust. No one would miss it.  
  
Arch tucked it in the bag with the money, fitting together. She decided to take the GP and the newfound item and stick them in the empty bureau. After that, she fell back into the bed, and the world was sucked to a pleasant oblivion, wearing armor and all.  
  
*  
  
Arch was more impatient than she thought. She had a vague dream about a small silver cylinder object with holes in it. It was identified in her mind as a flute. But it was silver, like her armor. But that's all the dream was about. She had the picture of it in her mind and the sound it made, and that was enough to fuel.something she didn't know how to describe. It was similar to how she felt in the desert, wanting to walk forever until she remembered water. But this was a more lively feeling, making her want to run in circles for the sake of it.  
  
Ellaye was not around as far as Arch could tell this morning. Arch want to go to the market-like scene in the Merchant's Hall, too. The swordless warrior-lady went alone. She had the feeling Ellaye would not be around today. Cleaning other rooms, Arch guessed. She got no telepathic information.  
  
The whole scene seemed amazingly different in daylight. It turned out the Hall had no roof. It was in the shadow of a close tower. Arch was baffled by the strangeness, and burst out laughing when she first walked in. About three people near by stared at her, other glanced. Many of them she did not see in the late crowds of the night. The caravans were somehow transformed into stands holding food, weapons, and more tonics like that of which Arch found in the closet. She was relieved she did not have to walk in the sun like she did to reach the hall, for the tower blocked the light like a giant, leafless tree.  
  
People still stared, although few stopped and actually gaped at her in the midst of their production. But she had many eyes glance her way. She guessed it was her armor, for the people she met so far seemed to make a big deal of it. After a few moments of walking around, glancing at items at the stands and such, she heard some one direct their voice to her from nearby. She had the feeling she was going to have trouble attracting attention for some reason. "You there! How much for that old Doman armor?"  
  
She turned around. It was a merchant she did not recognize. He had a strange sort of black beard, mostly stubble on the chops and a shock of black on the chin. Arch recalled it as a goatee. He wore elaborate red and yellow clothes, something of silk and maybe linen. By the gold he wore, Arch knew he was one who mastered at trade. Some people edged off to a distance as they saw the man confronted her. She stood smiling against the stern faced dealer, her hands behind her back as like when she was walking. Lightly, she replied, "I am sorry. My "wear" is not for sale."  
  
"Five thousand." Arch stood smiling, shaking her head. Why would anyone want her armor, anyway? There were plenty of other good types in the armor, shield, and boots shops. And she liked her armor. The man continued. Arch chuckled at his efforts, however she knew he was just starting. "Ten thousand."  
  
"Nope." "Twenty thousand." Some heads turned. "Nah." "Fine then. I think I see your aim. Fifty thousand." "I am sorry, Sir. As I say again my armor is not for sale." Most people were now watching, turning heads and clicking their tongues in disappointment about Arch's decision. Some people had the look of anxiety in their eyes. But for some reason those people were looking not for the fact of her declines of the large amounts of money, but for the fact of whom she was talking to.  
  
She did not pick up the wealthy merchant's name, but she knew he was not like the ones she traveled with. He had a different reaction from the common people gathering around, and the normal cashires distasted him, almost snarling. He wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. Banned or something. And he used to worship-  
  
~ Kefka.~ ~Ahugetower,stairsandstairs,andstairsreachingtotheblacksky.~  
  
Arch blinked. The vision completely pulled her from what she physically saw, leaving her a blank smiling figure standing with her hands behind her back in a calm position. Odd, she thought amusingly. The merchant was throwing the exchange for a million, becoming more and more agitated as he went, before Arch made a very loud sigh trying to make a passive point of boredom or pity. She grinned a little more when she saw his face starting to turn red. Something of a logical laugh in words played at her lips, "Sir, when I say I will not sell my armor and you persist, you degenerate your self-esteem greatly by working too hard for nothing. I suggest you pay the armor-smiths for a different suit."  
  
"You wench, I will have that armor!" Oh, a temper tantrum. Some people scattered a bit, some making sounds of disgust and others making sounds of shock as the man publicly swore at such a trivial matter. Woman fled, removing children from the area and scowling at the vulgar language. Arch wasn't really aware why, but by the some-what morbid atmosphere suddenly building she was glad they were gone for their own sake. But simotaniously she also noticed there were no guards in the hall itself. Poor stratagy to protect people of Figaro-  
  
~NOW-~  
  
Arch's thoughts ran like a flash, like her visions. But this was sharper. Without cause, Arch went with the torrent of impulses. Her right hand shot up to her face, grabbing a blur of steel. She noticed the position of the "merchant" before she could see what she clutched in her pale hand and pointed between the eyes, just touching the skin. She clamped her jaw shut, preparing for something that would not agree with her senses in the near future.  
  
The man had his legs spread slightly for balance, arm extended with an open hand. He had the expression of anger, a demonic scowl. People started to scream, panic in a flurry to leave. A few people on their toes for the fight stayed near the doors and the steel walls. But Arch stood still as people swarmed away quickly, the simple calm never leaving her as she held the weapon from her brow. But her usual peaceful amusment took on a expressionless and somewhat sad flavor. And a painful one.  
  
Arch just caught the blade of a not-so-dull dirk in her fist, stopping the point just as it touched the skin between her eyes. Red raced down her wrist in streams, her hand still clutching the sharp blade. She did not notice the man's expression turn to horror -or amazement- for her "quick reflexes." She focused on moving her elbow and opening her hand as he stood still in shock. Fire came from the cut muscles and skin in her palm.  
  
It was not all that bad of a wound. She was able to catch the soaring blade in the major crease of the fingers so the stress of pressure from the blade was not tremendous. She stopped the force of the projectile by pinching the flat of the blade against her palm with the rest of the fingers. But there was still a clean cut raked deep across the fingers, as well as a deeper one across her palm. She took her left arm calmly from behind her back. Her right hand burned like hell fire after a few moments and even worse after opening her hand and pulling the blade from her palm with a sick sound of wet blood and muscle tissue. She winced though a mild grin, and dropped the blade to the brick floor with a high-strung clank.  
  
The thief-merchant quickly recovered from his astonishment. He shook his head once in disbelief, but then removed another gleam of light; another blade. But he charged up to Arch this time, pulling the knife back in an under-movement to try and get the space between her breast-plate, shoulder- guards, and arm-guards. But he never got any more than two feet away from her. She practically slid in the dirt out of the way without needing to gradually gain any momentum at all, kicking up sand tracked in by the former shoppers and chocobos. She spun as he came close, her shoulder guards peircing the air. To her it was rediculously easy, evading the thief's attack and making a counter-attack of her own. Her left shoulder felt the force as the huge metal shoulder-plate hit the back of the offender's head.  
  
Then there was silence.  
  
And the man almost flew four feet before hitting the floor with a grunt, limp as a rag-doll. His grip loosened on the knife, and it went skipping on the ground as he hit the thin layer of sand during the charge. Arch found her eye following the flash of metal as it stopped under the boot of a guard, the first in the group that skidded to a stop as it approched the duel site.  
  
She looked at them with the bitter-sweet smile, looking down and shaking her head. She could only know her emotion as sadness. But she had no regret. From her forgotten past she knew she had the right to handicap the former Kefka-worshipper for the fact he drew blood first.  
  
"Sad," Arch muttered lowly. With that, she stood up straight and opened her right fist again and tried her best to pinch the larger of the two wounds in her hand with her fingers, not even looking at the Figaro soldiers. She went to the empty tailor-stand as a few of the officials blinked at her.  
  
She grabbed the first thing she put her hands on, wrapped up her palm, and made a fist to tightening the bandage so the blood would stop as soon as possible. The pain was distant, now however. She might have had an adrenaline rush or was pushing it from her mind because it was not as bad as before. Although she didn't show anything more than a sad smile, in her mind she was somewhat stunned and now highly amused with almost comical hysteria.  
  
Why the hell would someone fight over armor?  
  
Then Arch took attention to the cloth she grabbed, feeling the texture with the left hand as she held it tight. Again she was somewhat deflated. It was beautiful silk, bold and royal blue with gold edges. She ironically ruined it, turning the fibers purple with her scarlet blood. And she knew it was two-hundred and fifty GP. Pushing her wounded hand down on the wood counter to keep the bandage on as the soldiers gathered up the thief-Fanatic, Arch pulled the bag of money from her armor, and dumped half of the contents onto the pile of clothes. The vile also fell out.  
  
Arch paused, reflecting it for a moment. She left it out to tuck the money- bag away. She then reclaimed the small bottle and popped off the top without a second thought. She downed the bitter contents, and as soon as she did so the pain of her wound returned. Intuition must have just called.  
  
"Ma'am.?" A soldier that approached her from behind must have been unsure about her armor's gender illusion again. But Arch approved by nodding her head as she turned to face him, holding her closed fist. "That dirk might be poisoned. Please come with us."  
  
"I've already solved it, my friend," Arch made an attempt for a reassuring laugh. The guy was more scared for having to drag her to the medical quarters from poisoning than for her own health, but she found she didn't like anxiety of any form and hoped to end it without a grudge. "I only ask for some decent bandages and directions to south Figaro. I think the weapon- smith might be able to explain what happened. He had a pretty good view of this game..I think."  
  
Arch only made the young guard afraid of her.  
  
  
  
  
  
Author noties:  
  
Thankee, Radia, for pointing out the misshap! For those who don't know, I confused Edgar's middle name with Sabin's..X_X  
  
Now a flick preview from "The Night Rain!" ^ ^ --  
  
Ved-"Suurrrreeee..You screw up as soon as we.GET TRAPPED IN A NOT-SO- DORMANT VOLCANO!" O  
  
Ulati-"Only your breath, Vedcano, is just as bad. Is that why your parents named you so weird?" D  
  
Ved-"Yo' Mama." |  
  
Iroot-"I don't get it." @_x 


	3. Wark.

She stared blankly at him.  
  
The guards brought her inside the castle after the battle, unheeding her requests to leave. People parted when the soldiers led her through the crowds, one on either side of her. She didn't know what happened to the Merchant-thief, for the few people attending to him did not carry him through the same doors she was escorted through. She hoped he was getting medical attention, for the blow her shoulder-guard gave him was pretty hard by her standards.  
  
After she got in the castle her wishes for the thief's health became her own. A plump woman had her wounds wrapped with even white bandages and applied a strange green paste to the gashes in Arch's hand. She kept the bloodied silk scarf with her GP, for people were staring at it awkwardly, the spiraling blood patterns some hidden meaning to them. She could not have it washed because as soon as her hand was bound she was immediately brought to a small rustic room. She was glad for the desert heat, for it dried the crimson life-force quickly, making the fabric stiff but not as messy as it could have been.  
  
Now she was being questioned by an elder man with a serious air around him. He was disturbed by something about her, too. His eyebrows joined as he furrowed his head in irritation, waiting for an answer he wanted. Seemingly telling him she did not remember anything more than waking up in a desert wasn't approved of.  
  
He wore red and gold clothes. He was a judge or of the likes, perhaps a high official. He has papers spread out before him on the ancient oak table, quill in hand and black ink on his left. When he talked his teeth and tongue were a dark blue. When Arch first met him she fell it no a fit of laughter. Perhaps that's why he was peeved at her now?  
  
"Your saying you woke up in the desert, hitched a ride on a caravan and got to Figaro Castle, where you got attacked by a much-wanted fanatic in public because he wanted your armor?"  
  
"Yip." "Show me some proof that you are not a fanatic yourself, then!" He obviously thought she was lieing. Arch smiled stupidly and blinked at him.  
  
~What should I say, what should I say?~ She thought amusingly. ~Hey.What is a "Fanatic" anyway?~ "What's a fanatic?  
  
"Bah!" The man leaned back in his chair, his white hair mottled with brown poking out of his hat. It seemed he was worn out by questioning Arch for a half-hour and getting the same answers. "By the Goddesses, you must have sun-illness!"  
  
"I guess," the armored woman said. Then there was a knock on the metal door. The official got up from his seat, putting his quill down in the desk. He seemed to shuffle to the door rather than walk, Arch noticed. ~A limp in the right leg.~  
  
~Fire!Peoplescreaming,theblazehotlikethesuntouchedtheplanet.~  
  
The next thing Arch saw was the man opening the door, like she was cut out of time again. A guard was outside. Arch could not read his lips well or pick up on what he thought, but what he said was accompanied by holding out a scroll of which the Question-man took. She leaned back in the large chair with more lax and flexed her sore hand as she saw the expression of the man seemed to hold less irritation. He claimed thanks and shut the door as the messenger left, returning to his desk like he was oblivious towards the silvered figure in the chair. His eyes darted back and forth as he read. After a few moments of silence he placed the scroll down, looking at Arch.  
  
"It seems the merchants tell me your story is authentic. You are free to leave."  
  
Arch stood, nodding her head in thanks. She smiled brightly as she went to the door and left without another word. ~Hah,~ she mused, ~I wonder what they said?~  
  
For some reason as soon as she left the guarded room of the scribe-like man another soldier met her in the hallway. He was militant, showing no emotions. Arch stared questioningly at him as he held out another bag, the lumps in its sides slightly bulging with the GP.  
  
"For your services," he said. Arch only had time to take the money before he quickly turned and left.  
  
~That was abrupt.~she blinked, looking down at the reward in her hand and stuffing it with the remaining money in her armor. ~I guess it's for helping to catch that "criminal" as the blue-tongued man said. It's not like I hunted him down though. She paused. Do I really need this.? To get to South Figaro, maybe.~  
  
She had a larger smile worn as she made her way out of the castle, wondering how to get rid of the coins. She needed food.perhaps something to hold any other objects she found like that Healing potion, and a Chocobo to get to the southern city. And directions, of course.  
  
When she found herself in the market again people were in it like before. Guards were stationed inside, however. A few civilians still gave her wary glances and moved out of her way while some smiled back at her meekly. She eventually made it to the tailor shop from where she got the silk cloth, her feet guiding her blindly. She didn't know she was even there before she saw the sign and decided to use some manners.  
  
"Excuse me, Sir?" she asked. A large, burley man with a huge beard turned around from arranging some of the materials he sought to sell. As he saw who was asking for his assistance, his eyes grew wide.  
  
"You?!" He seemed surprised as he was angry, but he kept his voice even.  
  
"Yes." Arch pulled the ruined silk scarf from her bosom, the dust of her blood rubbing off on her fingers. "I'm sorry I took it without consulting you first, but I left the money in the pile."  
  
The tailor-man stared at her white face, then to the violet tinged cloth. His heavy eye-brows lowered. "If your asking if I want it back, you can keep it. It's no good for anything but scrap. You can have your money back."  
  
"No, no! It's alright!" Arch said brightly, waving her hands in front of her, a gesture that was becoming common for her. "You keep the money. But now I'm wondering if I could have that large pouch-bag over there." She pointed to a one-shouldered leather sack that would have normally been used to carry herbs. The tailor, although disturbed by the woman who he saw catch a flying dagger in her hand, agreed to do business.  
  
*  
  
After purchasing the leather pack she found it sat well with her armor. It buckled, so she did not have to deal with trying to get it around her shoulder-guards or reaching for it as it sat on her hip. Shortly after visiting the Tailor's Stand, she moved to the item's cart. She spent five- hundred GP on a multitude of potions (Which didn't do much for her wound besides help it scab), heals, and water. The bright-eyed but slightly sulky woman behind the counter seemed oblivious to Arch's armor and complextion. She stared at her for a moment as she handed over a canteen, "You are traveling alone?"  
  
"To South Figaro, yes. Do you know how to get there?" "Yes, but you would be better to travel with someone." "I'm getting a chocobo." "They won't help you much against humans. The only way to get to South Figaro on land is to cross the East Mountain Range on the Canyon Trail, but I heard that the thieves have been trapping people on the road. The path is cut into rock, so they could jump down and cut off all escape, wither you're on a chocobo or not. I've heard of some real well known fighters who never reached the other side alive. Your better off waiting until the caravan leaves again next week."  
  
~Next WEEK?! Ahg, I don't think so. I'm not mooching off of the Merchants again, and I'm not going to wait. Hey. What about that girl who wanted to go to Narshe with her uncle? ~  
  
Arch tilted her head at the thought. If the trail was as dangerous as the Item's Merchant said the servant girl would be in.  
  
~Deep Crap.~ "I'm confident that I can get through. I might be able to bribe them off somehow."  
  
"Your mad." The woman said flatly. "I agree." Arch quickly replied, chuckling. "Fine then. If you get yourself killed, I hold no blame. The mountains are in the east of here. Chocobos can go on the trail and avoid monsters, but as I said you wont be able to pass the thieves. I doubt you'll make it to the other side of the path, but you'll know you're near South Figaro when you can see the rest of the forest and hills in the distance. Keep going east until you hit the town, and make sure not to stain your chocobo on the rocks. If you see anyone on the tail, stay out of sight. Thieves are tricksters."  
  
"Okay. Thank you!" Arch said, nodding greatfully with enthusiasm. The woman sighed and went back to her work as a mother and child came to the counter.  
  
*  
  
The sun made the illusion of water in the sands through the wide open doors of the stables. There was a tablet on the door leading away from the market that caught Arch's eye and she found that Figaro Castle was not only famous for its battle tactics and technology, but now also for the largest chocobo stable in the world. It could house up to one-hundred and fifty chocobos at once easily.  
  
The smell of dung and sweat was strong as she went in the large room. Yellow feathers were in piles in the corners and floating in the air, being sweeped up by the care-takers as well as the dry turds that strayed from the yellow birds' bedding. Warks and voices echoed in the vast room, leading to the wide doors that led to the desert.  
  
Arch passed by them, the thoughts of the birds easily running through her head like a soft but massive symphony with a fluffy, yellow shape. Fluffy and yellow was the only way she could describe them. A really, really big fluffy yellow. Like the birds. A fluffy yellow.  
  
Arch was smiling and nearly cracking up with laughter like a drunk with a steady and spriteful step by the time she passed the rows of stables, hands behind her back. There were not a lot of humans in majority to the joyful beasts of burden, but the ones that were there seemed dull in compare to a single chocobo, just by the feeling of their minds, although the focus of their thoughts were becoming distant.  
  
There was a tall, brawny man at the gate leading outside behind a counter. A metal bar blocked the enterance so if an untrained chocobo were to somehow escape from their cells of hay they wouldn't get lost out the desert, or possibly to stop people from highjacking. Arch was in the sleepy- bliss like state again, the yellow chocobo-fuzzies floating around in her head. She snapped out of it when the man coughed, staring at her like she grew chocobo feathers herself. "Do you have business here.miss?"  
  
Seemingly if they could see her face people didn't seem to be as confused by her armor. She looked to him, trying to remember what she came here for.  
  
".? Oh, yes! I would like to borrow a chocobo, please." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder towards the stalls, reluctantly speaking. "Go pick one from row five."  
  
Arch nodded sharply in reply, nearly running to grab a steed for herself. She went to the nearest occupied stable in the second to last row, feeling the boyancy of their care-free minds. She didn't even bother looking at the bird, putting her hand on the latch to open the door.  
  
~Wark.~  
  
She paused. For some reason, the light joy fled and her attention to the physical world grew more intense. She looked into the stable. A normal chocobo, fluffed slightly while picking at grain.  
  
~Wark!~  
  
She closed the latch to secure the door closed again. This was not the chocobo she was "meant" to have. She turned around, staring into the clouds of feathers and dust.  
  
~Wark, Wark!~  
  
There seemed to be a chocobo-call that was distinct over the others, although it was perfectly the same. It was further on the row, coming from the distant end by the Market doors. She followed it, strangely keen to the particular warking.  
  
~WARK!~  
  
She ended up at the fifth to last stall, looking at the inhabitant. It warked again brightly, chirping after. It's bright eyes blinked as it tilted its head. It was smaller than the other chocobos, perhaps five inches shorter in hight, and a little more stocky.  
  
Arch put her hands on the latch, and the thing practically turned into a tornado within itself.  
  
Feathers flew everywhere as the whirlwind dashed in circles, making more noise than an earthquake. The other chocobos next to it started up a following cry, and within seconds Arch thought her ears were going to pop. The next thing she knew someone was tapping on her shoulder, for she felt the drumming on the metal on her shoulder-pad. She turned to face one of the sweepers, who squinted his eyes and shook his head. He had to yell over the chocobos to be heard, and even then it was drowned out.  
  
"You don't want that one!" "Why?" asked Arch, almost screaming herself. The chocobo was only a little.noisy. "The thing's nuts! The last person who tried to ride it had his fingers bitten off!" "So? He has his reasons!" "It's also missing his left toe claw! It can't run fast!" he protested. "Who said speed matters to me?" "He'll kill you! By the Goddesses, lady, are you nuts?!" "Probably just as much as you say he is," Arch replied, jabbing a thumb to the bird, grinning as she took the reins hanging on the side of the wall from their hanger.  
  
*  
  
"What the hell?!" The man behind the counter stood up, the toothpick in his mouth dropping to the floor. The chocobos since calmed down. Arch strode up to him; or at least the chocobo did. The sweeper was walking beside Arch and her mount at what he though of a safe distance of about fifteen feet.  
  
"How the bloody fuck did you manage to.?" started the sweeper, trailing off. Arch shrugged, smiling, "Maybe I didn't refer to him as an 'it'? Chocoboes have feelings, too." She sounded rather like a young child with morals.  
  
The sweeper's face distorted with anger and distaste for a moment, but did not say anything to reply. The man at the counter looked cautious as Arch approched the desk, the bird chirping as lightfully as the others, however lacking a toe.  
  
"How much is it?" Arch asked, figuring he was at a desk like the merchants and hence wanted money-trade.  
  
"Er...Uh...100 gp?" The money hit the desk, one large gold coin. The metal bar was slid back to allow her into the desert as he reflexivley pulled a lever.  
  
Arch and the Chocobo hit the desert, going Southeast like they were running for the sun.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~~  
  
Author Noties!-  
  
I'm going to have to find a way to make this more illegable.If the style changed a bit from the previous chapters, sorry! I wrote this in a hurry. Bah! @_@ 


	4. Least Expected.

Arch was on the road leading between the red mountains and heading to the South Figaro the food-lady told of.  
  
It was beautiful.  
  
The road went between the mountains, sometimes up the side of one and around to others to avoid crevices. A few trees dotted the mountains themselves, mostly on the side of the road. They looked deep, but the other clay-red mountains sprouted not to far away.  
  
The sun was high. Arch was traveling for two days, her Chocobo picking and making his stomach full on what he could find. She drank the water in the desert already, and happily it was cooler in this area. Her thirst wasn't changing however, and she was lucky enough to find a small stream among the roots of a tree as soon as she found the mountains.  
  
Her chocobo was happy, trotting with spunk and sometimes doing something of a dance in circles every few miles. Arch was laughing hysterically at his antics, the chocobo-fuzzies poking up in her mind. Eventually...  
  
She started to sing.  
  
What song she couldn't remember, but she remembered the words and beat clearly as the one-toe-short Chocobo made his way up an incline. The elevation of the road seemed to get higher to avoid what seemed to be a dead-end of both rocks and water below, a small lake that wasn't big enough to stick on a map, and only separated from the path by a green forest. She sang lightly, and the Chocobo, now not so hyper, chirped with her.  
  
"I was walk'n down the road one day."  
  
Wark. "Just whistl'n my time away."  
  
Wark, wark.  
  
"I never looked at the time."  
  
Wark.  
  
"But I was never far behind."  
  
Wark.  
  
"And when-I-met-people-on-the-street-I-said-'hey, hey-HEY?!"  
  
Wark, wark- WARK?!  
  
Her chocobo paused as she reached the top of the dusty road, turning it's beak to the dense greenery flanking the right side of the trail, growing up the mountain and reaching to the valley below. Already the two could communicate as well as two humans. Arch looked to her left as the chocobo did so for the purpous of giving her a clear view down the trail.  
  
A body.  
  
~Jeesh. I hope my singing didn't kill him.~  
  
Without thinking Arch slid off her chocobo, who became nervous at the sight of the limp form. He sent worry, this yellow fuzzies turning to a rather negative color with some fear. An icky yellow. Arch patted her feathered- friend's neck, murmuring at it in Chocobo-like tones. It got the idea to stay calm, and chipped a bit, happy that it's human counterpart did not have the reaction of fear and lack of humor that most others did in these situations.  
  
Upon touching the ground, her heavy pack unbalanced her, causing her to hop on one foot to retrieve her other leg. After that not-so-graceful maneuver, she then she turned to the man, rearranging the bag so that it fit more comfortably. Also, for better reach.She didn't have any phoenix downs, and the guy was dead for more than the required day to be revived she'd just have to stick him in the woods.If less than a day, drag him to South Figaro. And walk really fast to get there..  
  
But, how did he get there?.  
  
~Of course...That grocer-lady said thieves were around here. ~Maybe he was a victim? Or he was one playing dead.? ~Or did he just fall out of the sky? ~  
  
Many strange thoughts and possibilities!  
  
The ivory woman didn't take the chance to get near enough before she tried to feel if the "wounded" man was awake, laying in wait as the grocer-lady hinted at. But she certainly got another feeling that backed up her former thought as she moved towards him; he was not all that awake, and was defiantly wounded. Words in his half-aware mind didn't form much, empty murmurs, but the feeling on pain in his gut, and the overall body, as well as the skull were like a dark shade of bad blood. She winced, feeling a part of it in her own body as much as she felt sympathy for the figure, a dull ache in her psyche that lasted a few moments and resided away. "Ouch."  
  
~And what happened to him.? The thieves. But wouldn't he be dead? It's not like he could put a Phoenix- RedfirereachingtotheskyasEarth'sCometrosetotheair,cryingintriumphandjoy. -Down on himself.~  
  
She took no more time or stress, her cheery emotions not changing much from when she was singing however a tint of curiosity and the stated sympathy. She immediately approached the wounded man, her boots scuffing against the hard, clay ground, driven by what felt to be almost instinct.  
  
Well, it wasn't like she was going to leave him there!  
  
He was laying on his front, partly on his right side in a position where he seemed as if he'd fallen and tried to observe his stomach, where he had his left hand tucked to, or to get his feet without rolling down the ridge to the line of trees. Either, or, she couldn't tell or pick up on, and nor did she really care. What Arch was more focused on was the gash from a dagger on his solar plexus she was feeling, obviously far more painful for the attacked host. It reminded her of the phrase "Like a hot poker," the words floating to her mind. Luckily it was not deep enough to the point where it was presently fatal unless. What was it?.Stagnation.Inflammation.Wait.  
  
~Infection! ~ Yes!  
  
Yet blood loss was not the reason for his person's vulnerable state, she noticed. There was not enough blood on the already orange-red ground. Nor did Arch sense him to have that sort of energy-drainage.  
  
It was a confusing blend of pain, but she knew it like it was a distant memory; because somehow it was like she didn't feel the pain, but remembered it.It was hard to explain, but she felt a certain amount of the nerve-reactions without experiencing them. She knew she should just try not to understand what she was "picking up" or she'd have a headache of her own as she kneeled beside the man.  
  
The top of her skull ached, near the back, and another pain to the front. Something, cold, hard. Arch had the faint sense someone "bricked" him off the head with something. She already assumed a hilt of some sort.But she also concluded a fall, which was the pain to the front of his skull. Or HER skull.Briefly turning around to the clay wall, she saw that loose dirt and pebbles had slid down, a small landslide from the edge above having force on it earlier. It did not hold her attention long, her mind only reassuring herself with hints to what happened.  
  
The looking back to the unconscious man she saw he was more muscled and somehow strangely lean at the same time than when she saw him from the chocobo. It was kind of hard to tell at the distance of fifteen feet when the guy was cloaked in complete black. COMPLETE black, spare the red dust that filmed over him. Muscle shirt, gloves, pants, boots, hood, mask.She didn't expect the mask at all, sending a sadly amused and meager smile to her face.  
  
~It's one of those guys! Assassins.? Wait. No. Grr.~  
  
  
  
It took a moment for the word she was looking for, her brows knotting, but rising in accomplishment as she remembered the word.  
  
~Ah! A Ninja!~  
  
When she glanced at the blood, that was absorbed in the ground but not yet dried, she felt his mind surface more, simply because whatever awareness he had sensed her, his consciousness like a shapeless, white mass surfacing from the cold, dense water of sleep. She almost ~did~ expect that.  
  
After a moment of waiting to see if she could sense anything else, Arch patted at his shoulder with a hand, trying to bring him awake. That made is easier for her to mentally reach into the Arctic-cold fluid as well, "pulling" the shapeless mass of his mind above the dark sea, pulling his recoiling awareness to the wounded body from the sleep he set himself into.  
  
He stirred immediately, his fingers slowly scratching at the pounded earth as he moved, Arch sharing the feeling of the pain in his head abruptly pounding. "Hey- are you ok?" she asked, tilting her head to see any reaction to build upon. Of course she knew the masked man was most likely not up to talking, for she already got that from "soft" information, but it might have helped to know if anything else was wrong.  
  
The ninja's eyes rolled forward as she spoke, as if he was an awaking snake that did not need to blink. Also, he stopped still, far aware of everything around him. Arch was fairly unsettled by the fact as soon as his green oculi were forward they went strait to her, with the aura of once again staring a predator in the eye. It seemed like, as well "felt" like, this assassin was never forced into the temporary coma in the first place.  
  
The unexpected high awareness made the silver armored woman sit up a little more, removing her hand and going from her kneel into a crouch on the ball of her foot with her arms draped on her knees, giving him the space he seemed to already demand with silence. So he was awake, which was good, but his glare and rapid mood-change from confusion to absolute defense and a determined anger, almost like a wall, could have been a two edged sword.  
  
Gladly, the anger seemed to fade as he stared, seeing she wasn't holding up anything sharp or massive like she "saw" him expecting. Then was the feeling of utter surprise, however withheld, as he was stunned.  
  
~ He was expecting death.~  
  
She relaxed a bit, showing a line of a loose smile as she also didn't feel as stiff-backed, breathing out of her nose. Yet she was taken off guard once again as the ninja was propping himself up on his right hand and knee, trying to get up. Right then and there Arch almost fell over, with the bloody web that seemed to pull the skin under her ribs inside out in red fire. Although it was pain, it was the sort she knew how to deal with. And she herself nearly fell over once again because the masked warrior was feeling the original punishment of dealing with the thieves. And his bright green eyes, that seemed almost neon to her, never phased with the stripes of red fire she was picking up.  
  
Without really thinking, she stood up, muttered what came to her mind.  
  
"Dude.!"  
  
*  
  
This guy had a real knack at ignoring pain. It was like it wasn't even there to him. The drops of blood, and the dark pool where he was formerly laying told otherwise.  
  
Ok. This guy has a lot of energy in reserve, and a really ambitious drive to stand up...  
  
But she was assuming too much. The ninja only stayed in a crouch, the sound of the rubble stopping, his hand to his stomach as he glared at her. She could agree why he didn't move any more than that. He's probably bleed more.  
  
~Stretch muscles and stuff. That and his head probably feels the size of a watermelon after getting close up and personal to the ground. I know mine is.~  
  
She paused. With the last thought, her mind went into works, picking up on the fresh memory of the hood-adorned assassin in front of her. She would have got more information, but there was a strange block felt to her mind to look any deeper than what she saw.  
  
For a timeless second, she was in a mix of red color, seeing through the ninja's eyes, holding a slightly curved blade, the power brimming in it as was the mix of survival. Blood ran, not the assassin's at least, the Striker meeting the resistance for a moment, and then a quick flick sent an attacking sword into the air, disarming a man with a parry. The image of being surrounded by at least seven people was turned into a chaotic fit as someone else charged in, the others following in a tidal wave of steel. The assassin moved to the side with a skill for the situation, and being completely missed by the first three. Yet someone else moved behind him-one of those fallen-, and stars and color exploding as the silver hilt met the back of his skull. It was impossible with this number to have much ability to have the advantage, Arch's mind echoed. Her present stomache sunk as someone else simotaniously was able to kick the legendary Striker out of the ninja's fist as he jerked forward and the world spun like a tornado. A third person had the dagger. Then he was at the edge of the overhang, and just as quickly he was in the air, and just as quickly there was chaos, only enough ability to come over the sinking sleep to try to stand.  
  
Arch blinked the vividness away, realizing what she had not yet experienced since she was in the Figaro Desert from other people. He can hide his more distant memories and thoughts? She couldn't pick up his name. Or what he was doing here. Or even what he looked like under the mask. Strange. Well, he couldn't hide his emotions though, but he pretty much smited them.  
  
Arch was curious, and smiled after gawking in reply to the assassin's uneasy and unmoving cold stare. She was still calm, but rather confused by the fury she sensed. Hell, she was tempted to make a peace sign with her fingers.  
  
But maybe to her fortune she was able to tell he was remembering something. She couldn't tell WHAT he thinking, but it sent the reaction of familiarity. She felt the sense of him reacting in slight humor, and absolute irony, being someone like her was unexpected. But there was an underlying emotion of anger. And something else that didn't agree with her. But the fury towards her sensed earlier from the moon-dawned Assassin, who had the waxing symbols on the top of his mask, was forgotten. That was enough to make her grin rather largely, however nothing about the assassin himself seemed to change, spare his own irony faded as quickly as it came. But Arch was able to keep the great amusement of the present situation for a moment longer. But not much longer.  
  
She was still grinning as she followed the ninja's eyes move over her shoulder towards the clay bank he was thrown off of. But his aura changed dramatically as much as he woke up, just in the fact that that underlaying and yet nameless emotion she couldn't figure out seemed to be filmed and mixed with a fighting-flame. The defense Arch sensed doubled, as he became tenser and slightly drew one shoulder back to get to his feet rather quickly if he wanted to and move away without losing much time.  
  
Of course, she turned, looking up to where he noticed.  
  
Oh,-  
  
Poo.  
  
*  
  
Several rugged, ragged, fairly thin and highly-in-need-of-a-bath men stood above them, the closest one with his boot upon a rock, a dagger, with dried blood Arch presumed as the masked assassin's, twirling in his fingers as he rested his elbow on his knee. Most of the folk on the higher elevation had a sickening grin that really didn't make her feel all to happy to respond with the same reaction, but to be as defensive as the shadow-colored man behind her. But she smiled, however meekly. Not that she was pretty much nervous. She was rather at the point of bursting out laughing if she didn't contain herself. What helped her to contain herself was the earthy feeling of being prepared to do something, that emotion the ninja felt that mixed with that black, nameless.emotion-thing. For say, in her own words, prepared to beat someone off the head with a rock.  
  
~Or bite their ear off.  
  
Or.~  
  
Arch suddenly felt like there was someone to her right, who was just as bemused as she was, and actually VERY excited, almost more than she was. But out of the corner of her eye no one was there. No one besides her seemed to notice when it giggled and shouted.  
  
~ "GO FOR THE BOOTS!"~  
  
If the unfocused voice said to go for the balls, Arch wouldn't have changed her reaction. Then whoever was there was gone. She raised her brows and fought against laughing insanely.  
  
~Oh, this'll be a party, now won't it!~  
  
  
  
The "leader" of the thieves chuckled at her seemingly nervous reaction. "You know, you should have just walked by if you were smart."  
  
Arch Cinaed blinked. It wasn't like she was going to leave anyone to die on the side of a road in the hot sun. She knew better to say something along the lines they were stupid to cause problems in the first place, but ate her words and knotted her brows together, raising one in morbid humor of disbelief. She couldn't say she wanted to fight, but if she had to she might as well get the best she could out of it- without causing more trouble for the masked other. Or getting herself skewered on a stick, which felt highly amusing as everything else at the moment.  
  
"But seeming you didn't, I guess we can have more fun," The leader's violent grin widened as he stood up, moving the dagger in his hand for "proper" use. Arch knew he was coming down but taking his time to wait and see what they did first. That made her "nervous" smile turn into a calm one. She got a little time on her part. The master-thief's expression gave that away even with out a mind tap.  
  
And the assassin obviously knew that too.  
  
The gravel shifted under his foot as he brought himself otherwise silently up, preparing for the attack. Arch clamped her jaws shut as her stomach seemed to explode and her head spun, like her brains were rattled about without affecting her. She calmly stood after he did, and put her hands behind her back, the same posture as when she faced the Fanatic.  
  
Since the "leader" of the thieves was nearest, she focused on him, staring him in the eye and using unfocused vision to see all his actions. Again, she didn't even know she was doing it until she brought herself to notice. She guessed it was instinct that told her not to look away. After a moment she was getting the feeling the thieves' leader was looking for a glance to the escape-areas. That way he could get the thrill of chasing and giving them one hell of a bully's wedgie THAT way.  
  
From behind her, she "felt" the assassin searching, somehow feeling his focus on each of the thieves that now perched on the clay ridge change as he intensely had the same gaze locked on the commander. He was lacking something.And looking for it among them.  
  
He had no "weapon."  
  
~.His.Sword?~ She remembered him loosing it in the vision- and recalled the name. ~Striker!~  
  
After a second of silence, the ninja seemed to have found his mark. The thief on the far right, the farthest one from them had the blade in his belt. Arch was fairly puzzled. He seemed more focused on getting the sword than surviving. Maybe. She couldn't tell.  
  
.But if he was going to fight, that wouldn't be good. Arch might get in trouble if the ninja got overpowered by the number of the thieves, like last time. She didn't want to think about what THAT would feel like.  
  
And she wasn't the one with the whole in her gut. And she basically didn't need a weapon, and had her armor. And her hand wasn't much. She might even be able to trip someone with the bandage.And it was scabbed up fairly well. And she had her potions.  
  
She forgot about those. She stepped back, the leader's maliciously and taunting brown eyes following her every move, her own humorous and calm keen orbs of ice returning a daring (The only real change from her normal expression) and fairly amused gaze. The ninja was also watching the offensive group just as calmly as she was, however more prepared to fight, but took care to see her from the corner of his eye, taking a wary glance at her every few seconds. Arch figured he'd think she would run. As the glances from the market proved, people must think she was pretty much "defenseless" with only armor and her naïve amusement with everything.  
  
Well, almost everything. The bathroom experience was far from amusing.  
  
It was only mildly humorous.  
  
She raised her left hand, showing she wasn't reaching for a weapon, and put her right hand to the shoulder-sack under her left arm, reaching under the protective leather flap. Her fingers hit the frost-styled glass that was meant to help define the potions without seeing them, and she carefully removed it, watching the Thieve-lord snicker.  
  
~Like you've never used one of these!~ Arch Cinaed mentally snorted. ~Probably stuck it up your butt, too, trying to remove the stick.~  
  
She moved the vile to her left hand, and held it outstretched to the assassin. He did not take it immediately. He glanced back to her, the suspicious look in his eye. Yet then he worked as slowly as she did, and the Silver-adorned sand-child of ice took her time to point out what advantages he may have not noticed as she passed it. "If you look left you might be able to see a chocobo in the trees. If he's not exactly there, he's around there somewhere."  
  
~Ah, poo! ~ She forgot that chocobo didn't often like other people. And just as she remembered that, she remembered her hand...She had the blue and gold handkerchief. It smelt like her. It would work! "But take this."  
  
She slowly started to move again, making sure the bandits, who could have long since attacked but were more interested and curious to see what they were doing, could clearly watch and observe every move. It must have looked as if Arch was planning to take them on all at once.  
  
Which, to a certain point she was.  
  
Arch lifted her chin, reaching into her breastplate and finding the silken cloth, pulling it out, making sure she did not somehow reveal her money.  
  
Like dogs to food, the money also may have caused the thieves to move.  
  
~Hey! That kind of rhymed! ~  
  
Money did mean a full belly, anyway. She didn't want to taunt them and kill herself unwittingly.  
  
She handed the fabric to the ninja again in the same manner of the potion. And as she handed it to him, she got the vibrations that his blood seemed to run cold. A blank surprise, and maybe fear.? Despite all his hidden emotions he did now show, those not "killed" immediately were sensible as anyone else's.  
  
He knew something about the cloth.  
  
But Arch wasn't all that ready to sacrifice the advantage of time and space, as well as the amusement of the watching thieves to ask at the very moment. "Let the chocobo smell that or he'll give you trouble with his beak in your eye. Then get the Helios out of here. Your new 'beauty mark' will be a problem for me," She grinned. "I'll get your Striker-or-whatever. Just don't end up with anything more than a splinter in the next fifteen minutes."  
  
The assassin turned his head to stare at her right there and then. He had no expression, but from what Arch was picking up from him he was shocked and stunned.  
  
~I guess I'm not supposed to know what Striker is, then. Well, oops!~ She giggled, and accidentally cast her eyes down.  
  
What happened next made her laugh like a lunatic.  
  
  
  
  
  
Author Noties:  
  
::Clings on Ninja's arm.:: I TELL YOU ALL that Ninja, who I speak of and often cling on to, is my ASTRAL GUARDIAN and not SHADOW! Shadow is Shadow..o.o Woot! ^ ^ Stay tuned for the yellow submarine. ..No, I'm working on Ninja and my tale somewhere ELSE. So you dun know him.o.o  
  
WHEE~!  
  
Celtic quote-" I would like to know how Shadow can drink potions through his mask. Without showing his face in the game."  
  
Arch-"DUDE! Your right!"  
  
Celtic-"DUDE!.How the bloody fuck are we going to fix it? X_X"  
  
Arch-"I dunno. He can spin in circles and go ONE TWO THREE and magically drink it without problems."  
  
Celtic-"GENIOUS! I'm going to make you famous for that quote! D"  
  
Arch-"But the monkeys will find me!.Wait. O_o "  
  
Celtic-"That's my problem. CONFOUND MY MANY CHARACTER-EGOS! ::Crackle- Laugh!::"  
  
Arch-"POP!" 


	5. From behind the mask

The thieves roared in a battle-lust cry after the leader nodded his head with a jerky, self-filled gesture at the armored woman and the wounded assassin, the former laughing so hard it was surprising she didn't kill herself there and then with hemorrhaging in her lungs.  
  
Shadow glanced at her. If he just met her at the exact second, he would have thought her as insane. But from what he saw in the last three minutes, he knew otherwise just by the look in her eyes. It was no where near Kefka's. And what he saw other than that stunned him. And for once, he could admit that.  
  
He was expecting death for the final goddamned time. His actual demise, like so many times before. Yet it evaded him once again- or more or less he did. He ran from the reaper even when he wasn't doing a thing about it. Not a Goddamned thing.  
  
And she revived him. He did not know her. Never saw her in his life. Yet he almost did. *Almost did.*  
  
She almost looked like Realm years into the future.  
  
It was with the features of her face- the large, watchful eyes and somehow fragile yet wide jaws. If her eyes were the intense green as they were the intense blue, he would have made the effort to ask who she exactly was. Yet he knew it wasn't Realm, and quickly dismissed the notion. It took a while to notice, but this girl was at least five years older than what he thought at first- maybe a few years younger than Terra. That and she had the pale skin and hair of Setzer. Yet, like Celes, didn't have his pasty look that in Shadow's opinion, looked ill. She wore armor like Cyan, having the heavy Doman structure and plating. Yet it seemed far more sturdy, and far more confining because of the shoulder-guards, if that was even possible for the already thick Doman style. And it was untainted or painted, without etched designs, just a simple shell of protection of what seemed to be silver.  
  
Her appearance and resemblance was strange enough upon his awakening. . .  
  
And now she pulled out his scarf.  
  
After he woke up in the ruins of Kefka's tower, somehow surviving the collapse-  
  
~Running away again. . .~  
  
-He found it missing. It was the only thing that was absolutely gone on his person that was of any importance to him. Not in a survival sense, yet. . .  
  
It was his, something he had since forgotten, hoping the memories he associated with it would follow.  
  
They never did.  
  
And as far as he was concerned they got worse as some other things got better. But he didn't care less. Nothing had changed much, spare keeping up his occupation was fairly difficult (No one needed an assassin anymore) and Interceptor was in Thamasa. He simply wandered from town to town, haunting the memories of the people who dared see him at the bars.  
  
And she knew about the Striker. He wouldn't doubt that she could have heard from someone, but to know *he* had it was another story.  
  
Maybe she knew one of the other fourteen. . . ?  
  
As the flood of the brigands came down, and after the quick glance at the jester-humored woman, he found himself snatching the blue, gold, and now violet silk out of her hand. Then he was running, the fire in his stomach like venom as the wound was opening more, sprouting hot blood like a volcano and his brain a poorly balanced boulder. If this person, this weaponless "knight," was so careless in battle, she was either highly skilled or as arrogant as a fawn walking through a wolf pack. Yet from what he perceived, she knew what she was doing to some extent. She moved in perfect time to taunt the thieves so far, and she certainly was prepared to some extent in her own way, with the potions and the steed-bird.  
  
He bit back the fireworks he saw in the lens of his eyes, as well as the flash of memories as he once again fled, however wounded yet not lacking any skill to withstand the agony. Hell, he lived off the venomous pain. Yet at the moment, he did not notice anything of that sort. He was busy looking for that "golden bird."  
  
He heard three pairs of footsteps following him in the clay dirt, yet even after his succumberance to the pain and destruction to his body minutes ago, was far more agile than the trio pursuing him. He took to the bushes where the Albino-like woman had mentioned, becoming nothing more of an invisible whirlwind among the leaves, wood, and crumbling clay under his boots, the bloody cloth in his hand.  
  
He found he didn't know why he was even listening to her. He didn't have time to worry about her having a snake's tongue or use his own direction of escape. Maybe that welt he felt growing across his scull had something to do with it. But the old lessons, for years unlearned, lingered.  
  
~A fool once again,~ he muttered to himself. The words in his mind were laced with the bitterness of being overcome and leaving others for the dirty work. Guilt. ~Even after Kefka I'm still running. . .~  
  
Yet he allowed the apathy to temporarily release the relentless banging in his mind. Another bone in the already towering pile.  
  
The ground went downhill, causing the offenders trouble as the loose clay turned into a brittle sand, causing them to slide. It was nothing to Shadow, even in his weakened state- he would do just as well going up hill. He lost them in the green foliage, being as silent as if he lived in it all his life, his eyes sharp for any disruption to the patterns of the already chaotic-like forest.  
  
But it did not take him long, for the beast did not wander far from where it was mentioned to be.  
  
The bird was half hidden in a bush, it's head and forewing easily seen like the sun in the sky, however only when looked at from a certain angle.  
  
Shadow stopped- there was enough distance for him to move to the bird slowly, without scaring it into a run. The loose pebbles beneath his shoes skidded down the mountain, causing the chocobo to look up from the roots it was pecking at.  
  
Shadow knew that there was something wrong with the bird as soon as he saw it move, his own defensive reflexes rising for the fact he could be facing another possible enemy. The aura of the feathered beast was enough to tell the assassin it was not the automatically happy sort. The bird, which was far more scrawny that Shadow would have thought but rather useful in this terrain, lowered it's head threateningly, the feathers around it's neck fluffing as it glared at him. It did not seem to be all that tame, as the silver-armored woman predicted. To ride this beast, she must have known her creatures well.  
  
The faint tint of distrust Shadow felt for the woman on the road, one of the many things he let out of his personal Pandora's Box freely, was fairly obliterated.  
  
Silence reined in the trees for a moment as the ninja held out the cloth in his right hand, moving as slowly as he could muster. He felt time wasting away as the three far behind him were most likely following his trail of blood, urging him to steadily edge closer to the deafly silent and almost mangy yellow bird. A perfectly silent chocobo was not one to be screwed with when showing any form of aggressive tendencies. If it hissed, he would forget about the damn thing. No use in a creature that would sooner trample his brains out while he had more people coming at him from behind.  
  
Yet as he moved closer, closing the distance from ten feet to eight, the chocobo suddenly stood up strait, the feathers on it's neck unruffling, it's eyes looking right to what the assassin offered. Shadow stood still- the bird made offensive advance, yet the strange look in it's eye was uncanny now- not as blood-searing, but rather unpredictable. He tensed as the chocobo walked up to him, wary in each step but just a little more faster than he was, saving Shadow the time of having to get himself far more closer to the steed.  
  
The beak went right to the cloth, however cautiously, where it noted the smell of the former rider's blood, its sharp black eyes looking down at the blue piece. Briefly, it regarded the dark red trail of blood down the assassin's front, only pointing it's beak at it and glancing to then make a sneezing sound. Right there and then, all the tension broke. Shadow was not greatly surprised as a simpleton, yet he was more prepared for the chocobo to take his hand off at the wrist. And much against his expectancy, the chocobo warked clearly, and rather lazily with a laid-back drawl. It then faced left, pawing its right foot, and held its head high, ruffling the wings.  
  
Shadow automatically took that action as an invitation to ride, and not wanting to waste more time than needed, swiftly went onto the saddle and took the reins as the three ungraceful thieves were beginning to come into view. . . Yet unwisely, they were descending in one line.  
  
Shadow managed an amusing realization at the stupidity of the three. ~If Figaro ever decided to clear them out they would never stand a-~  
  
Mid-thought, the chocobo proved to be a war-beast.  
  
Shadow was almost bucked off when the yellow-feathered steed pushed off, darting off the hill like a torpedo, his head spinning violently for the acceleration. The stubborn bird did not take Shadow's orders of the reins to steer away from the three, yet with all the branches smacking him, he could do nothing but try to hang on as his head felt as if it was cracked in two and the balance of the planet tipped.  
  
Then Shadow's mild sense of surprise arose after the unmerciful torture of inertia was past it's worst, allowing him to open his eyes to see the bird was charging at the attackers. The shriek it gave sounded like an undead T- rex, echoing and shrill to the ears. Shadow winced slightly, pain flaring though his head like an arrow. Bark could be worse than bite. But in this case, bite was still a lot worse.  
  
The chocobo went right up the unsteady ground, hissing and spreading it's wings, fluffing itself up as it plowed down the first man beneath its heavy feet. Shadow felt the vibration of something vital being crushed, but paid no mind to it, rather watching the fate of the next thief.  
  
The second was not so lucky, the bird savagely lowing it's head and taking a nice clean bite from his shoulder and neck, the collar bone ripped clean out with what seemed to be whatever muscle and veins near it. The last man was a little more fortunate, trying to get out of the way but was hit in the head by the chocobo's wing and brought to the ground by the former bloodied body.  
  
Shadow did not looked back to see if the man got out of the way unharmed, yet he would not have a doubt that the fallen idiot was going to be deaf in his right ear for quite a while.  
  
There was a clash of metal in the air on the clear, clay-dirt path. Obviously the fight was commencing with some sparks. The strange woman was alive. Either she had taken one of the thieves's weapons or fighting was without one.  
  
The chocobo was in its fury-speeded chase up the hill, yet stopped it's screaming and louder noises as moved past the three, and grew even more silent as it reached the area where the trees and their shielding protection ended. It had even more intelligence as its appearance gave. It chirped softly as it stood still, turning its head to stare at the hooded rider. Waiting for an order?  
  
It had some training after all.  
  
Shadow took the liberty of sitting up more, pulling a branch of green from the wrist of his glove as he surveyed the area warily- it seemed the fight moved a little east, to where the road widened and the sun hit the red earth more directly. Shadow squinted his eyes- there was a glare of metal, most of it coming from the armor of the ivory figure that seemed to move about like water. After that he could only stand to shake off the burning of the glare that echoed as the color red under his eyelids and listen. There were shouts of men, rather frustrated ones at that. Others were. . . Laughing?  
  
Although he could have easily withstood both the pain of the wound at his stomach and the concussion, he was as helpless to the fact that if he were to pass out he would have no way to prevent it. Every once and a while the painfully acute surroundings would dull to a deafness, blindness, or lack of any physical reality at all, like he was being pulled from his body on a suspended wire.  
  
Logic stood on the bodies of his dead emotions in the storm.  
  
Shadow gripped the reins, steering the feathered beast of burden to the clear path, back to Figaro Castle and it's deserts, away from the fight. The girl would fight on her own. She stuck herself in that position.  
  
The bird walked.  
  
***  
  
The woman with the white hair was, strangely enough, standing on the back of one of the thieves, strangling him with a white cloth as she leaned up against the clay wall. From Shadow's memory of observing her as he was revived from his unconscious state, he faintly remembered it was the bandage from her hand.  
  
~She uses her healing as an attack. . . ~ The scene was far too humorous, and also ridiculous, that even Shadow allowed himself a small smile under his mask, however briefly as the lack of vision sweeped into the corner of his eyes like the poisoned waters of Doma, once again freezing the source of the expression to ice.  
  
The tortured brigand was swaying his sword around madly, unintentionally keeping his allies at bay as the girl even somehow got chocobo feathers in his hair prior to when Shadow was again able to see how she faired. Half of the thieves were actually laughing *with* her.  
  
So he was not just imagining it.  
  
The assassin saw the strange child-like warrior's cleverness from the ridge of which the thieves formerly perched to the west, using the slope not even a quarter of a mile away from where he was attacked to climb atop on the chocobo and return on the advantage of high elevation.  
  
Nearby that organic ramp he left the empty bottle of the potion on the ground. It did not do much for his stomach wound, but he did gain a fair amount of balance again. His senses were still a problem, yet he did not have the out of body experience as often. But other than that the single potion only worked on bruised shins and was a temporary, internal, anti- bacterial solution. Nothing powerful, nothing good. Just something with only a little use.  
  
What drove Shadow to order the chocobo up that slope and go back was not something he was willing to describe or think about. He just did it- nothing he really expected. He used the excuse of the Striker (although he could always return and seek it out later) and the potion to return, allowing the "dead" emotions to pursuade him briefly like chained slaves, who ironically told masters what to do.  
  
Now he found an advantage to not only watch and wait out of direct sight but intercede-  
  
~Interceptor. . . ~  
  
-with some ease if he was given the chance to do it.  
  
Since the fall of Kefka, the guilt that guided him grew a little more silent as he faced against the path of the sun.  
  
He observed the woman in the unique Doman armor when he looked to the east from the chocobo's perch at an outcropping above the sight of the vagabonds, easily able to see the movements clearly. At least it would be where he watched and waited until he was discovered by a displaced glance or found a pattern to work with that suited him. He would either be eventually forced to attack with his poorer skills of battle from chocobo- back (Which would not be as hard considering the former rampage of the bird) or a wait and find a path cleared past the weaponless warrior.  
  
He would wait where he was, out of direct vision but able to observe and time his next action.  
  
The masked-assassin did not want to risk killing the chocobo by getting it impaled by jumping on the thieves below unless he had an absolute reason to risk it.  
  
Even Shadow preferred to go on chocobo after getting a concussion and a gash in his stomach, even if the damned bird liked him or not.  
  
The thief the ivory-warrior basically "rode" lost his balance when she lowered herself and kicked him behind the knee, causing the "steed" to fall flat onto his face, gasping for air as the bandage loosened. She traded mercy to him for her life as the other thieves closed in on her, for the clay wall and the human shield were no longer available. There must have been more thieves from when Shadow last fought. He killed at least five of them before, and once again was dealing with at least fifteen of this clan, with three in the bush, two on the ground yet still alive, and ten still standing. However one looked like he was having trouble with his balance- blood stained his right kneecap.  
  
Maybe they had Phoenix Downs, which had grown increasingly rare since magic died.  
  
Shadow's crazy chocobo reared with the sight of all the new commotion of its owner running around while chased, tensing the muscles in its fear.  
  
~Still!~ hissed Shadow's mind as his muscles buckled under his flesh to keep balanced, folding the skin around the hole in his skin. Yet he did not curse for the hot pain- he was cursing for he didn't want to draw more attention. Strangely enough, the chocobo calmed itself as he pulled the reins once more, merely flapping it's wings and chirping almost inaudibly, rather worriedly. Was this a chocobo or an oversized chicken? Usually, chocobos simply fled back to their stable, not pick at rots in the woods, when there was no rider, and never did Shadow see one become attached to a human- the birds even seemed neutral to their caretakers at the stables.  
  
This was one of the more strange things he had encountered in quite a long time.  
  
One hell of a long time.  
  
The weaponless fighter kicked off the back of her fallen "mount," ducking under a blade that was moving to decapitate her, missing and hitting the clay wall. From the position of under the arms of her miscellaneous attacker, she spun to both face the next offender and drive her shoulder- guards into the former's stomach, causing him to drop his sword and buckle up, holding his gut. The woman was fast enough to avoid getting splattered with the man's throw up, who did so on the "human-chocobo," and stand, as well as step to her right. The next one's sword missed her by far as she once again spun past it, like a strange dancer, and smacking him in the back of the head with the other shoulder-guard. He sunk to the ground, out cold, defeated by the use of defense-as-offence.  
  
Shadow had seen the strange ways of fighting by many people- the dancing ways of the moogles's which first came to mind, Realm's power to draw things, Gogo's ability to mimic, Edgar's use of tools, Setzer's cards, Terra's powers to transform. Yet this was so far the most simple and bazaar way of combat without magic enhancements- or even an actual weapon for that matter, that Shadow had so far observed. Even by monsters or any person in the Coliseum had not had a technique even similar to this. And her reactions were comical, laughing and humiliating the attackers, although not a new thing (Locke, for one) was certainly in the record with it's intensity. She had no fear. And briefly, she even got one of the men to cut his own belt, sending his pants to the ground, with his own sword.  
  
That one turned out to be the one who took the Striker.  
  
The fool must had grazed himself, for he soon was tripping in his clothing, but when he touched the ground his mouth was open and eyes were empty. The child-like warrior leaped over him (she must have had some skill is air dynamics, for she both leaped over the carcass backwards and long-ways) to avoid the circling men who were left with nothing but air at her light- hearted disappearance in their collective mass, landing in a crouch. She grabbed the legendary sword by its blade briefly to drag it closer to herself at first with her right hand, and changed it to her fist quickly, holding it up to simply look at it as she grinned with curiosity. Her back was to the incline, protected by the trees and sand-like pebbles, and the thieves where only just starting to close in on her again, so she made no real fault.  
  
Yet as she looked at the thief's face, to insinuate her glee with the retrieval of the sword as a tease, seeing he had no life her form changed drastically. The smile left her face, and what remained was a calculating expression with a rather distant or startled look, as she went still as if she turned to stone. She must have not expected the man to be dead- not many people knew of the poison in the Striker's blade, lethal at times with even the smallest of scratches. Her smile and her simple humor faded for what Shadow expected to be the first time in this battle.  
  
She did not mean to kill him.  
  
The thief's open eyes stared at the chocobo's illegitimate owner as she once again glanced to the sword, her blue hazes serious and rather cautious of what she held after seeing it's affect on mortals.  
  
Her expression changed again, now seemingly rather confused. Maybe she was baffled that the thief was dead, and was relating that she didn't see him impale himself on the sword- that a scratch couldn't kill a man no matter what legends said. Maybe she did hear of the legendary name of Striker in one or more tales, and now was coming to see she had it in her hand.  
  
But either way, she stood, looking down at the body, and quickly disregarded it,bringing herself from her thoughts to the present. And it seemed her skill was not with swords- or she didn't want to use the deadly blade again- for she stuck it through the back of her belt. After getting the sword out of her hands and onto her back, her strange smile showed again and went right back into the group that could be just as deadly as the blade could be to her without a second thought.  
  
It was like she was playing a game that briefly turned dark, timed out, and resumed with the same amount of fury as before.  
  
And now Shadow was like a dark eagle. Not for the fact he sat and waited, watching without physically focusing his eyes but rather looking out as if a person would out of the corner, a mental fixation, but for the fact that instincts kicked in.  
  
He knew he would be swooping down in a matter of moments.  
  
That hype filled the back of his mind for a brief moment, as it did many times before in his years. After the first few times it happened when he was younger, he started using the "sixth sense," cultivating it. It was one of the things that tended to make him all the more infamous in people's eyes. He knew the more drastic actions would have killed him if not for that "hunch."  
  
A few seconds passed, blades swinging about, people tripping over each other and yelling, a comical scene for those who did not have a quick eye and even faster mind. Shadow observed the warrior-child, looking for the key his subconsious already spotted.  
  
Almost immediately he saw she did not grin as brightly as before. And she was actually slowing down. Although that stupid grin was on her face, Shadow was able to "reach" and feel that her own thoughts were clouding, the vitalty starting to disspell and being sapped away.  
  
Once again the surreal quake of the Pandora's box pointed that her lack of humor was not because she indirectly, however accidentally, took a life when she did not mean it. He also found the logical proof to act on the disembodied knowledge, sending the reason why he was getting the impulse to move down to the fight before.  
  
Guilt echoed from the crypt once again.  
  
~Shit.~  
  
And the assassin was forced into action.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~ Author noties: As you well know, this is from SHADOW'S POINT OF VIEW! And if you want to know why he is not thinking much with words as Arch is, it's a part of his personality. Quiet people sometimes have quiet minds because they observe things more, but when they observe something that can be put into words at the top of they're head, it's usually to remember things or speak to a person. That's your lesson FOR TODAY! ::Chalk on a chalk-board screech.::  
  
And if anyone knows the name of that undead-dinosaur T-rex thing you have to fight in the Phoenix Cave, that's the think I was referring to. I remember the monster itself, but I was never good with names..:D  
  
And I have a question for Doc-mun! Can I name the psychotic chocobo after YOU?! ::Strange eye-goggle.:: MUAHAHA! I think I just might. I see a pun somewhere. ^ ^ ~ Arch-" Great. :: Sarcastic snort and mock-anger, while grinning .:: Kill me why don't you! P"  
  
Celtic-"::Glare.:: Oh shut up. O :: Happy grin.:: The chocobo might come from FF Tactics and revive you anyway. :D"  
  
Arch-"WHEE~! ^ ^"  
  
Hell (Another character very similar to Arch, but is in a different storyline and is far more insane. You can kind of tell by the name, eyh? D)-" Howcome SHE get's to meet Ramza?!"  
  
Celtic-" I never said she was. And besides- You just might do something rather inappropriate to Arith! XP"  
  
Hell-"::Tries to look naïve.:: Like what?"  
  
Arch-"Ohmygof.."  
  
Celtic-"Stick a bomb under her skirt, for one."  
  
Hell-"Actually, I was aiming for a drug-bomb in her flower basket to her get high and see what she would do. ^ ^"  
  
Celtic-"She'll see some real nice colorful flowers then! D "  
  
Arch-" I'm sure she'd love that.XD"  
  
Celtic-" But too bad. You'll give Arith ideas with swindling costumers with an airborne disease with at stupid moss-stuff that killed half the people in the game."  
  
Hell-"Then can I stick a fire-bomb in her basket? O.o "  
  
Celtic-" We don't need Arith all over my TV screen, and we don't need a chocobo-headed guy all depressed again. Plus, she would get killed by people in trenchcoats too much. "  
  
Hell-"::Devious thoughtful look.::"  
  
Celtic-" And no, you can't hire Setzer to hire you to kill Arith to get her killed by threnchies TWO TIMES OVER!"  
  
Hell-"::Has a "plan thwarted" look.::"  
  
Arch-"Cellie, I think your note is going to be bigger than the story if you two don't shut up. Give Shadow a break! O_O"  
  
Celtic AND Hell-"::Silence.:: O.O"  
  
Shadow-"."  
  
::And then Oggy, a fairly strange dude, walks in.::  
  
Oggy-"Yah. Suddenly the actual Final Fantasy character talks."  
  
Hell(To Shadow)-" Hey, do you think you can get Sabin drunk and get him to sing the Marrie-Poppin's theme? :D" 


	6. Space out.

Arch was literally dancing in circles around these guys. And having a very amusing time doing it.  
  
At least other than the time when she saw that one of them were actually dead. For a moment, them, if felt like she was sucked somewhere- her mind totally blacked out. No memories, but she was somewhere else. In the present, but not where she was. . .  
  
It wasn't all that vivid.  
  
*She was standing up, scratching her head. The world was bright, like the sun was right overhead, but she wasn't blinded. And the guy she killed was right in front of her, looking around. He seemed pretty much afraid, wondering where he was, and where everyone went. It turned out they were still in the same place as before- trees behind, rest of the mountains beside them, but. . .  
  
It was different.  
  
Without moving his lips, the thief stuttered as he looked down, "W-what the hell. . .?" He was floating some feet above the ground. Arch looked down also, but only she was actually still on the dirt. And the man's body was at her feet. "I'm-I'm dead?!"  
  
Arch blinked. He was right. Well, she didn't feel any real remorse about the fact he WAS dead, but more that she got him surprised like that made her a little sheepish, showing the expression. "Er. . . Kinda?"  
  
The dead man looked up at her, jaw agape, slowly turning to anger. "I'm dead. . . You. . .You killed me!"  
  
Arch managed a comical wince, a lopsided grin appearing. She might as well humor the guy. He did croak, after all. "Sowwy. I didn't mean it."  
  
The man seemed to suddenly cool off from some strange realization, the rage he had sort of fading away like melting ice.  
  
~He just accepted he is dead,~ Arch thought to herself matter-of-factly. She wasn't surprised about it. She was actually happy. The man stared at her as she once again made a beaming smile.  
  
He was dissipating and letting go of the human form. He looked down as his arms and legs faded into an ethereal wisp. He was teleporting himself somewhere, to when he'd go in the Pathway. Looking back at Arch again, he was wide-eyed, but not afraid like before. He was already finding himself to like being dead. . .  
  
Arch waved and grinned as he sunk away, uttering a literally spirited and good-natured "Bye!"*  
  
Then, feeling slightly buoyant and not in the mood to make herself outwardly grin, she stood up. She didn't want to kill anyone else with that sword. Also, it kind of looked funny to her.  
  
~It's like it's roaring at me~ She glanced back to it amused, echoing the angry roar with a mocking, immature manner in her mind. After that, it frankly shut up. She stuck it across her back- she had no where else to put it and she didn't want to leave it on the ground. Someone else could always use it against *her.*  
  
She still wanted to mess with the group, and clamored back in, nothing weighing her down to cause a little havoc. She so far had two people cut each other's hair off, one stab himself in the boot (By his luck, he somehow missed and got between his toes), made a guy make a "Z" in the back of the leader's shirt (Even HE was laughing), and got another guy to scream and run off when she somehow managed to get all the rest of the brigands to chase her, and in turn chase him.  
  
Although Arch was having the time of her life prancing about and making most of the thieves hyperventilate themselves to defeat with laughing their asses off (Like when she was riding that guy. She allowed herself to humiliate him only for the fact he gave her a chance to catch her breath without having to make more people kiss the dirt) she was careful to not mortally wound anyone. She seriously didn't know how the pantless guy managed to kill himself by falling backwards, but she wasn't interested in how at the moment. It wasn't like she could have given him an autopsy at the time.  
  
Being caught up in the slap-and-dash entertainment of battle, the ivory warrior only had brief moments to wonder where that black-masked person was. And the chocobo, but she had the feeling he was off somewhere, alive and healthy and in the direction west, where she left him. Other than that, she couldn't concentrate for any more details besides the hooded dude was somehow blocking any way to sense him and distant enough that she couldn't pick up on the pain of his injuries, and the rabid bird was still frolicking around, maybe even watching. She certainly got that impression, although it was already hard to do with all these people seeking to beat her to oblivion.  
  
A broad sword went under her feet as she skipped over it and kicked a brittle chunk of clay at someone's head to temporary blind him at the same time, a skip-kick-land motion.  
  
Yet as she came down, her knees suddenly felt weak, like the joint was only made of a slimy water. In the midst of someone about to tackle her with a dagger-  
  
~The guy who stabbed Mr. Ninja back there. . .~  
  
-she sunk to the ground, hands against the earth to keep her face from hitting, just missing the impact in a way she didn't expect. He actually tripped over her, getting his foot stuck in the crease of the armor under her arm.  
  
~Eh. . .?~  
  
Her mind seemed to blank out for a moment. The world was a pastel blur. She felt her eyes roll back into her skull, bringing blindness with it, and all muscles, save that for her lungs and heart imobile. It was like she was sleeping without *sleeping.*  
  
But she found herself back on the ground, her left cheek against the red clay. She must have only been out for a second or two, because she wasn't all that dead yet. Dagger-boy still had his foot in her armor, too.  
  
Arch rolled onto her side quickly, avoiding someone's foot coming down on her skull. But she felt. . . Clumsy. And clammy. It was like her muscles were asleep. But they moved- she couldn't feel them all that well, though. Eventually, she ended up with the boot stuck in her armor, the man with the dagger left with only one. She stood up and moved away before he could turn and give her a nice jab with the pointy object, because he seemed fairly blinded with all of the confusion and people stepping on him while trying to get to Arch.  
  
Standing up, she felt amused (still grinning, as always) just as she was confused. She FELT like she was asleep- drowsy, spacey, and not really all there. Slow-witted, at least. She curled her right arm up, pulling the boot from the back-plate, and tossing it by the Dagger-boy's head.  
  
~I don't recall eating any funny-looking berries before all this. . . ~  
  
That's what the child-like warrior felt like, to say the least.  
  
She spun on her heels, knocking a man in the face with her shoulder-guards. She stumbled backwards- her balance was lost, her knees watery again. She felt a clanking sound and something bounce on her back- she fell into somebody. They ended up on the ground, while Arch was able to steady herself.  
  
And for a moment she was nowhere, like she was watching from somewhere else as someone came at her from the side, the leader-thief, and one of the hair- trimmed vagabonds came charging at her from the front.  
  
She stood still with a stupid grin, not fearing but expecting to have one hell of a problem, literally unable to move as the rest of the standing robbers closed in just as she started to sink again. . .-  
  
The next thing she knew, her feet were off the ground, pressed against her armor as something lurched her off her feet with fast speed. From there, she was practically strangled as someone managed to get most of her weight balanced on whatever they were on.  
  
Arch opened her eyes- so she did actually pass out. And she was going to do it again.  
  
The last thing she could really see was the group of thieves chasing a while after the yellow tail-feathers she saw, but they did not run long.  
  
A strange memory hit her just then. Like a rock. Behind her (She was facing backwards and away from the front), she sensed the familiar color of black, and the flash of pain in her stomach and skull.  
  
"Have to come back later," she muttered as she started with a mellow smile, half asleep and facing nothing but the dust trail of the chocobo, "Waiting for people." She felt herself lean forward on the back of the saddle as she once again was pulled into the sleeping pit briefly, and woke up without even noticing it.  
  
The pain in her gut again reminded her something and sent a grin to her face before she past out again.  
  
"Jeez, man. Do you ever take a break. . .?"  
  
She sensed the assassin listening with a strange acuteness before she slipped under the still waters of an unnatural sleep.  
  
* Author Noties:  
  
Celtic-"Jimmy-crack-corn and I don't god-damn care!. . .I just felt like saying that. D"  
  
Ninja-"(You would.) ^ ^"  
  
Celtic-"EXACTLY! ^ ^"  
  
Shadow-". . . . . . ::Strange glance.::" 


End file.
